Code Geass: The Forgotten Land
by Hyvamethyst
Summary: A princess of the Imperial Family and a general of defeated Australia, defined as enemies by their nationality. Neither know they have met before, but their fates are destined to entwine once again. In a world filled with deceit and thrown into turmoil by scheming in the Imperial Family, the presence of the Black Knights, and WMDs, what ending shall this tale bring about?
1. Prologue: The Falling Nation

[A/N: Hi there, and thanks for taking interest in my Code Geass fan fic. This story will mostly consists of OCs, as it focuses on a region never mentioned in the original series, but it will more or less follow the timeline and events of the series, at least that's what I'm hoping to achieve. It will coincide with some of the events in the canon as I hope to use some of them as a reason for certain happenings. Also, the brief history stated in this chapter and the mentions of actual historic figures and events derives from the Code Geass Wiki's account of Britannian history, so only the history pertaining to Australia's independence is non-canon.

As I have no beta reader, I apologize beforehand for any possible mistakes. I do review my work, but I don't always catch everything. Now without further ado, I present to you my first Code Geass fan fiction.

(Edited 19/11/2013)

Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass and any characters from the original series, just the OCs that appear in this story.]**  
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><p><strong>Prologue: The Falling Nation<strong>

I still couldn't figure out why the Britannian Empire would go to the trouble to invade us.

Our golden era had long passed, and we were abandoned by the rest of the world, so what did we have to interest them?

A few centuries ago, Britannian explorers stumbled upon this land, and like every other land they came across, they colonized discovered areas and created civilizations, marking this island as one of their own. Upon the discovery of large mineral reserves, this colony became an export of resources to Britannia and other nations alike, bringing wealth to both the rulers of the colony and the empire itself, as well as gaining recognition as an important overseas region of Britannia.

But when Washington's Rebellion occurred in the colony of America, a movement of independence also started here, following in Washington's footsteps. However, while America's fight for independence failed, ours had succeeded. Taking advantage of the long distance the Home Isles were from this colony as well as Britannia's struggle with America, and with the assistance of the French under Napoleon Bonaparte, we acquired victory before reinforcements could arrive and the land was deemed too costly to retake, for it would jeopardize the defenses of the Home Isles which was then under threat from France. For the first and only time in history, Britannia relinquished hold on one of its colonies, and recognized our independence. The Republic of Australia was formed.

Despite the war with Britannia, Australia continued to thrive, exporting materials to all over the world, that is, until sakuradite was utilized as a source of power instead of an explosive.

Being a nation with barely any sakuradite reserves, Australia was thrown aside by the major powers of the world, with the only larger sources of income being metal exports, tourism, education (courtesy of the institutes founded under Britannia), and supplying conventional fuels to the few countries that have yet to or couldn't transfer to using sakuradite; enough to sustain a functional economy and allow the majority of citizens to live in reasonable comfort, but nothing more. And as the Chinese Federation, the Euro Universe and the Holy Britannian Empire divided the world, Australia was left alone.

Until now.

The year was 2016 of the Imperial calendar and Britannia had turned its spear to the Republic of Australia. The Britannian fleet had massed outside Australian waters and waited, obviously flaunting, as we deployed our comparatively tiny navy in a futile attempt to slow Britannia's march of invasion. On 25 December, Christmas Day, diplomatic meetings with the Holy Britannian Empire failed, and the 98th emperor, Charles zi Britannia declared war on the Republic of Australia.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Lieutenant General Brian Wolfe of the Australian Air Force, and currently, I was seated in the war room staring blankly at the screens displaying the onslaught of Britannian forces.

There was nothing I could do anymore; in an attempt to prevent Britannia from using the pride of their military, the Knightmare Frames, the majority of the Air Force was sent out to engage and destroy the carrier aircrafts and ships. They never came back. After merely thirty or so sorties, they were all annihilated. The remainder of the Air Force was to provide air support for ground troops once Britannian forces landed on Australian soil, something that was inevitable from the very start of the conflict.

No, this was not a war, this was a massacre. Perhaps they just wanted to regain their lost pride, to show us that in the end, we would still just be a colony of Britannia. Or maybe they just wanted to conquer the entire world, and Australia was too big a piece of rock to ignore.

I heaved a sigh. Why couldn't that barbarian of a princess Carine ne Britannia just state what Britannia wants and get this all over with? Men and women in the Australian Armed Forces were dying every single day fighting the Britannians and that cursed girl wouldn't accept any offers of negotiation. It was almost as if she simply did this for the fun of watching her opponent crumble! I was willing to bet that it was true too; from what little information we had of the fourteen-year-old, it seemed that she derives pleasure from war and violence, that sadistic witch. Geez, they could've directly made an aerial assault, landing at the capital and our forces wouldn't be able to stop them, but no, they just _had_ to surround half the country and slowly push a bit forward every day, the nerve of those bastards!

"General Wolfe! General!" Breaking out of my bitter thoughts, I turned to face a saluting communications officer, slightly surprised that anyone would contact me for anything urgent.

"What is it Lieutenant?" I asked, returning the salute. Personally, I felt that no one needed to salute to me anymore, I had failed both my men and my country, what kind of a commanding officer was I?

"Sir, the Prime Minister wishes to see you in his office as soon as possible."

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Why would the Prime Minister want to see me of all people? I was now a general with nearly no power to speak of. But from the officer's tone and the gravity of the situation, it appeared that Prime Minister Graham must have a very good reason to summon me. Giving him a nod, I strode out of the war room and into the hallways of the underground bunker.

Although we were a neglected nation and never played much of a role in international affairs after the utilization of sakuradite as a source of energy, this underground bunker was repeatedly modernized since its completion during the First Pacific War and was enlarged to accommodate the essential parts of government, but no one really expected that it would be used one day since we had almost nothing to offer, just minerals and precious metals.

Now, the previously silent and empty hallways were bustling with activity, officers and ministers hurrying to their destinations, nervous and almost fearful, as if the Britannians were on our very doorstep. Which, I might add, was going to happen in about three weeks or so if the situation carried on like this, and that was putting it optimistically.

Nearly seven years ago, thanks to their large reserves of sakuradite, Japan was able to maintain a military force stronger than what we have now. They also put up a much better fight than we were, winning at least one battle, and if they had fallen in a month… Well, I'd be surprised if we managed to hold out that long, the large amount of land the Britannians had to cover to find us was little comfort.

Although they had yet to land their forces on the ground, most of us believe that the large numbers of RPI-11 _Glasgow_s will eventually tear through our defenses; even the normally confident and slightly cocky Army General James Granger was uncharacteristically somber. I never did understand how he could be cocky since almost every other country with a military was capable of dealing us a big blow.

The _Glasgow_ may be an old KMF, but it was more suited to combat conventional tanks than the new RPI-13 _Sutherland_, so we stood even less chance against them than if Britannia wanted to show the world how well the _Sutherland_s performed. I hoped that at least my pilots could turn some of those _Glasgow_s into scrap metal; they had no anti-air capabilities whatsoever, unless you counted the Slash Harkens, and I was sure that the helicopter pilots serving under me were certainly good enough to evade a large block of metal flung at them from the ground that was slower and straighter than an old RPG.

The walk to the Prime Minister's office was a short one; for convenience, the war room was situated close to the office and the largest meeting room in the complex. By the time I was standing in front of the sliding metal doors waiting for his secretary to grant me access, I still had no idea as to why Graham wanted to see me.

I was the youngest general in the entire Australian armed forces, and also the least useful one since a few hours ago. What's more, it seemed that he had summoned me alone, as most of the high command was assembled in the war room, but no one had left along with me. In increasing confusion, I stepped into the spacious office of Prime Minister Michael Graham, 52nd Prime Minister of the Republic of Australia and found him standing with his hands folded behind his back, staring at the portraits of the previous Australian Prime Ministers that hung on the wall behind his desk.

Raising my arm in a salute, I announced my arrival, "Lieutenant General Brian Wolfe reporting sir."

It was a minute or so before Graham acknowledged my presence, "I do not wish to be the last Prime Minister of the Republic of Australia," he said, the graveness and seriousness obvious in his voice as he spoke, "But from our current standing, it is inevitable that our nation will fall."

What was he getting at? Calling me here just to tell me a situation I was well aware of? Speaking like most would in this situation, I spoke, "You couldn't have done anything to save Australia sir, Britannia is too powerful, there was noth—"

"You must be wondering why I called you here," Graham cut me off as though I hadn't spoken. Turning around to face me, he continued, "You are the youngest general in the history of Australia's armed forces. From what your superiors have described, you show exceptional abilities in strategic and tactical planning. It was also noted, that you tend to use unconventional methods to gain the upper hand, often surprising your opponents.

"I know that I will be Australia's last Prime Minister, but I'd like to step down from this position in a more dignified, more honorable way, than being forced down by a foreign power that we weren't even able to lift a finger against. It's humiliating to see that we cannot even win a single battle. I'm hoping you can help me with this. I think you have the potential to be Australia's Tohdoh of Miracles."

For a moment I was speechless. Was he serious? To regain some of both Graham and Australia's lost dignity, it wouldn't be just winning a battle, it would have to be halting the progress of the Britannian forces altogether. Now _that_ would certainly be a miracle, one that I had no confidence whatsoever in achieving, even if it was the very country I serve that was on the line.

"I… I'm sorry sir, but… As much as I wish I could do this, what you're asking is impossible, I have already taken command of all available forces serving with me and did my best to try and ensure a victory, and as you have seen, all my strategies and tactics have failed to achieve even the smallest of victories. Besides, I have no more forces left to command, the other generals would be more suited for this request." I said in a low voice, lowering my head in shame at the end.

It hurt my pride to know that the others were still fighting, when all I could do was sit there and wait until the ground forces were involved.

Graham didn't say anything; all I heard was the ruffling of paper and then footsteps. Curious, I looked up to see the Prime Minister standing before me, staring intently at me and holding a folder. "What if I told you that the entire Research & Development Corps is now under your command and you will receive all funding required for your 'secret' project?"

I was completely dumbfounded. Not only did Graham know about Project AFCRO, he had also informed Parliament about it. Even more surprisingly, he had somehow convinced them to support the project. When the war started, I had all but forgotten about it, merely applying the usual secrecy measures to hide it. My mind was whirring with how he could have known and since when he had known. Come to think of it, now that we were on the brink of defeat, it wasn't entirely unexpected that everyone would hold on to a sliver of hope.

"Don't look so surprised general, something that resource consuming is hard to go unnoticed, although I do give you credit for keeping it hidden for so long. I seem to be the only one who has noticed and I found out merely two weeks ago. What I don't know is what the project actually is, care to enlighten me Wolfe?" Graham asked, a small smile on his lips as he handed me the folder containing all the required documents for the relocating of necessary assets. "I hope it's something worthwhile, because I forged evidence that your project was creating a weapon that might just give us an advantage over the Britannians, even if it is a small one, to persuade Parliament to give you support."

Snapping out of my stupefied state, I regained my ability to speak and answered, "It's a weapon... But it hasn't been perfected yet, due to the secrecy in which we worked, progress has been slow. With these resources, I believe we should be able to finish a prototype before the Britannians make a landing. However, we will not have time to test if it will work or not... It'll be a gamble if we deploy it in the battlefield." I was hesitant with my answer, the uncertainty we had since the start of the development preventing me from giving the Prime Minister a sure answer.

"At least we have some good news for once. I see that my faith in you wasn't misplaced; I wish you and your crew good luck. Now do hurry general, time is of the essence." Graham said with a sigh as he waved a hand in dismissal and stepped back to his desk.

Giving a salute, I turned on my heel and walked briskly to the exit, barely able to contain my excitement at the prospect of finally being able to finish Project AFCRO. If we were lucky, the Britannians would be in for a surprise.

"One more thing Wolfe." Graham stopped me as I was about to exit, "Just how much of an advantage will we have against Britannia if this weapon of yours is perfected?"

Pausing at the door, I contemplated this for a while before turning around with a smirk on my lips and replied with confidence, "Put it this way sir, if it works and is used correctly, the Britannians will be slowed down so much they'll be going backwards."

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><p>[AN: Okay, before anyone tells me that Australia was never invaded because it didn't have a Thought Elevator on the continent, I know, but for this to work I needed a place that was not invaded and Australia seemed like the best choice, so forgive me for disregarding the actions of Charles in the canon.

I'm also aware that Carine ne Britannia is only around fourteen years old at the time and couldn't possibly sent to lead an invasion force, but as said, Australia's armed forces are extremely outdated and just by shear might, without needing any strategies or tactics, Britannia can win, if just by sending their forces all forward. Besides, she has commanding officers to do the work for her, she's simply there to enjoy the show and supervise.

Thanks for reading this, reviews and criticism are always welcome and will be duly noted]


	2. Chapter 01: Project AFCRO

[A/N: Hi to anyone that still has interest in this fan fic, very sorry for the extremely slow update, but things came up and one thing led to another, so this chapter is really overdue. This chapter is shorter than I had planned, but I hope it's good enough and conveys the story just as well as a longer one. Well, enjoy.

Edited 06/04/2013

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass, only the OCs that appear in this fan fiction.]

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><p><strong>Chapter 01: Project AFCRO<strong>

Two weeks. With the full resources of the Research & Development Corps and Australia's best scientific minds on the job, two weeks was all it took to finish the final bits and pieces of a project that had been in the works ever since Brian Wolfe was promoted to the rank of Major General and prepare it for war. The timing couldn't have been better; a day or two later and the Britannians would have made landing on Australian soil.

However, the completion of Project AFCRO was essentially the only event that has been in favor of the Australians since the start of the war. As the Britannian ships steamed closer to shore, tension was getting high in the public. Understandable, considering it was now possible to see the silhouettes of enemy vessels using binoculars from the coast. With the way the Britannian troops have treated the people of the nations they have invaded, it would be natural for the coastal population to fear for their lives. Shortly after the start of the conflict, there had been protests against continuing to send forces into battle when so few came back alive. Every single day, countless families across Australia were informed that a member of their family had perished or had gone missing in battle.

But those protests were nothing compared to the anti-war protests occurring in coastal cities around the country at this very moment. People believed that if Australia surrendered and gave Britannia whatever they want, the cities would be spared from death and destruction. The problem with that theory was no one knew exactly _why_ they went to all the trouble to send a fleet half way around the globe or what it was they hoped to achieve by claiming this land as their own.

As he walked behind the Prime Minister, Brian wished he had written a draft beforehand, or at least consulted someone on the requirements of such a speech, for he was going to be making a public address along with Prime Minister Graham in an attempt to calm the public. Personally, he thought this was an exercise in futility as no matter what was said, the public would never believe they could prevent a land invasion. Not even the other flag officers that had been briefed on the operation believed such a thing were possible, but as it was the only hope they obliged to provide their assistance.

Walking into a room full of cameras and broadcasting equipment, Brian felt a few butterflies flutter in his stomach. Due to his young age, it was decided that he was not suitable for being the face of the Air Force's eastern district, hence only ever needed to brief certain military personnel. Coupled with his slight natural shyness, the prospect of speaking to the people of the nation made him slightly nervous. Perhaps he could study Graham while he spoke and learn some gestures or something of the sort.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," spoke Prime Minister Graham and Brian focused his attention on the man's posture, tone and words. "The Britannian forces are now at our very doorstep, but—"

"General Wolfe sir," someone whispered, interrupting Brian's study of Graham's body language. Turning around, he saw an aide beckoning him with a phone in his hand and frowned. Everything should be all set for tonight, so unless there were problems, no one would be calling him. Striding quickly out of the room after swiftly taking the phone, Brian was greeted by the tired voice of one of the Engineering Corps' engineers.

"I apologize for disturbing sir but I was told to report directly to you if there is a problem, and I regret to inform you that four of the fighters requested for escort of the bomber squadrons will be unable to sortie tonight, I won't bother you with the technical details, but we won't be able to fix them in time, we don't have the spare parts here."

"Damn," Brian hissed away from the speaker. The absence of four escorts would either leave a flank wide open or weaken the other flanks. "Isn't there anything you can do? Replacement aircraft? Temporary repairs?"

"I'm sorry sir, none of the planes from the other bases will make it in time and extensive repairs are needed for these four to get them even to fly, let alone enter combat. Apparently they were cannibalized for parts to repair damaged aircraft but the documents were not correctly filed."

Cursing softly under his breath, Brian was just about to reply when, "—and I would like to ask Lieutenant General Brian Wolfe, commander of the Australian Air Force Eastern District to briefly outline the future military actions we will take in this conflict."

Oh no… "Fix those planes as quick as you can, I don't care what you do!" Brian snapped quickly into the phone before handing it back to the aide and walking onto the stage, all the while doing his best to compose himself and prepare for the coming speech. In the back of his mind, he vaguely realized how ridiculous it was that he could be calm and collected while commanding troops but feel nervous, even if slightly, when making a public address.

Taking a deep breath, Brian started to speak, "To the citizens of Australia, I fully understand your fears at the prospect of the cities turning into battlefields, but I can assure you with confidence that such an event will not occur. Thus far, we have been unable to halt the Britannian invasion, but I believe this will change tonight.

"With the full might of our Air Force and Navy, we will be mounting an operation that will drive the enemy back. I ask you to have faith in the soldiers that will be fighting the final battle to defend Australia, to ensure our independence and freedom. Your support, your hopes and cheers to our valiant troops is vital, for that may well be what they need to put that little more effort into defending our homeland.

"To those in Sydney, keep your eyes on the eastern horizon tonight, I promise you will see a sight worth celebrating for. Thank you."

As soon as Brian stepped off the stage and the cameras turned off, Prime Minister Graham approached him with a quizzical expression on his face. "Are you sure it was wise to speak of this operation in a public broadcast?" Graham asked with an eyebrow raised.

"As far as we know, the Britannians aren't listening in on our broadcasting frequencies; they don't see us as a big enough threat to do that. Even if they did hear, it won't make a difference. We planned for the worst case scenario and besides, they won't be prepared for anything like this."

"I suppose you are right," Graham said with a slight frown, "However, you do know what the consequences are if this operation you cooked up fails, correct?" he questioned as they reached the helicopter pad at the top of the complex.

"Of course I do Prime Minister, and I have no intention of letting this become a disgrace to all of us; the future of the nation does depend on this final gamble sir. If you'll excuse me, there are a few problems I must attend to before the Operation Firelight begins." Brian replied and stepped into the waiting helicopter, settling in for the hour long flight to the Air Force bomber airbase where the final mission will begin.

During the flight, Brian dealt with the problem of lack of escorts. Rather than spreading out the other escorts to cover missing positions, he had opted for exposing a part of the squadron, having the rest of the escorts maintain their original positions and moving the most vital bomber to a more protected region. There would be more sacrifices but they had a larger chance of completing the mission than if he had chosen the other option.

Upon nearing the base, the dark hulking fuselages and swept back wings of all the Australian Air Force's remaining heavy strategic bombers could be seen. In preparation for what would most likely be their final mission, all had been modified to some degree, the most prominent of which was the new special white coating on the under sides of the aircraft, contrasting starkly with the camouflage patterns on their upper surfaces. Relics of a past era, these once proud bombers were developed by Britannia decades ago and sold to Australia after they were replaced by more modern equipment. Although still termed strategic bombers, their usefulness in achieving strategic influence on a modern battlefield was almost nonexistent; they were simply too slow, large, and ungainly.

As the highest commanding officer of the Australian Air Force's eastern district, and the one behind this entire plan, it was expected that he would give a last moment speech to all the crew that would be attempting such a dangerous and daring mission, which was why Brian was stepping up onto a transport and grabbing the microphone. The loud screech that emitted out of the loudspeakers when he took the microphone was enough to draw the attention of everyone on the tarmac, and they paused in their preparations to listen to the general's words.

"I'm sure you all know this, but tonight, you will be embarking on a mission that will decide the future of Australia. Your mission will decide whether the people of this nation will continue their ways of living or become mere puppets dancing to the command of a ruthless master." This time, Brian was more in his element; the words flowing off his tongue naturally as he faced soldiers who all understood the situation, not to mention supported his actions.

"Operation Firelight will more or less be a suicide mission. With that in mind you still made the decision to volunteer for it. Australia and her citizens are proud to have such brave men and women defending them, and defend them you will.

"In the past weeks, many of your comrades throughout the armed forces have given their lives for their friends, their loved ones, and their country. For weeks they have been pushed back. Now however, we have the advantage. It reminds me of two hundred years ago, when the world watched in astonishment as we emerged victorious in our battle against the Britannians. This time, they will watch in fear, as we decimate their invasion fleet, and threaten to turn Pendragon into a sea of fire.

"The Britannians will attempt to stop us, and although you will likely pay a costly price, it will only result in their humiliation. Tonight, you fly into history. Tonight, your wings carry our nation to the summit of world power!"

Shortly after his last words, klaxon alarms sounded throughout the airbase, signaling the beginning of the operation. Ground crews finished their last minute inspections, and pilots clambered into their cockpits, some taking one last long look at the photos of loved ones before starting up the turbofan engines and preparing for takeoff.

Even if they were old and inferior, the sight of the strategic bombers taking off and assuming attack formation was still a sight to behold. They once represented power and dominance, and they would do so again tonight after wiping out the Britannian command fleet. Brian hoped his little speech had the desired effect. Morale had never been lower, and without any form of encouragement, the troops were losing hope. Even the Japanese had one victory and a legendary commander to spur them into action. He watched them disappear into the clouds through the windows of the control tower before going to the underground levels to oversee the operation. Even with sophisticated sensors, a night attack with low cloud coverage over the entire area was still an advantage, and they needed every advantage they could get.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing Wolfe, all my ships in the region are out there to cooperate with your attack, if you screw this up, you won't be answering to me, you'll be answering to the families of all the men on those ships." Admiral Davis Whitley growled in Brian's ear after he had sat down.

"I'm well aware of the consequences Admiral Whitley; the lives of my people are on the line as well. I assure you, this operation will be a success." He was used to this kind of treatment by the elder commanders; they didn't hold much respect for him due to his young age and being new to the position.

Before Whitley could reply, a communications officer reported that the lead bomber squadron was now approaching the coastline, and the main screen displayed a map of the area with blinking dots and arrows showing the positions of all bombers, escorts and ships, with the bombers rapidly nearing the naval vessels lined up to support them.

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><p>Contrary to what Wolfe believed, the Britannian forces were actually listening in to their broadcast. Or more specifically, Carine ne Britannia was bored enough to tune the television in her private quarters to an Australian channel and watch the news broadcasts of fearful civilians protesting against continuing the war. She smirked as she lounged lazily on her bed watching the footage of clashes between police and civilians.<p>

She loved creating chaos and watching people fight, and it felt even more satisfying to know that she was the one that caused all this. They were like insects, weak and pathetic, and she could crush them whenever she wanted. But drawing out their pain and fear was much more entertaining than just simply killing them; that would be too merciful. Once she became viceroy of this pitiful rock, they would all be under her heel.

Carine listened with amusement as Wolfe announced that they would be attacking her forces tonight. Such a fool, how could anything they come up with match the strength of the Holy Britannian Empire's highly superior forces? It was laughable to think they even posed a threat. In fact, her fleet was spread out in a line instead of converging around the flagship to protect it against enemy attacks, simply as a show of force to mock the enemy.

Giving a small smile, she got up from the bed and headed to the bridge. Let them come, let them attack and do everything they can. And once they saw that their attack couldn't do anything, she would wipe them out.

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><p>To be fully honest, Lieutenant Colonel William Hale was very nervous. Buffalos-stampeding-in-your-stomach nervous. Sure, he was ready to give his life for his nation, but the fear of battle is always apparent, especially if you're facing the strongest military power in the world with comparatively low tech equipment. <em>Very<em> low tech equipment. And an exposed flank. So far, everything was going smoothly; according to their instruments, they were closing in on the shore and about to fly over Sydney. After that, they would be in the jaws of the beast. Quite a dangerous situation, having the jaws of the beast right in front of your door but that was the situation Australia was in.

Flying high above the clouds, William silently prayed to God that this mission would succeed, even if it meant his death. Against any other opponent, General Wolfe's tactic combined with their new secret weapon would be a certain victory, but Britannia wasn't just any other opponent; they had the most feared military in the world, boasting the largest numbers and advanced technology superior to any other nation. Well, perhaps not the technology the aircraft was carrying in its bomb bay.

William's eyes flicked down to the family photo taped onto the instrument panel. He suddenly wished he had spent more time with his family, given more attention to his children, and at least said a goodbye to them. They had only heard occasionally from him and the last time he contacted them was immediately before he was chosen to lead the AFCRO squadron. He was sorely tempted to call his family right now, but they were under orders to maintain radio silence, and when they revealed themselves, the jamming equipment numerous other bombers were carrying meant his call would never get through.

But this was not the time to indulge in memories of family, for their mission included multiple phases to ensure that they could deliver their ordnance. Before takeoff, every crew had been given precise orders to follow, and now they had to concentrate on getting every single little detail right. According to their plans, phase one was to begin any second.

With the clouds under them, the entire fleet could see the full moon clearly, and under the moonlight, they could also see missiles darting through the clouds and exploding into thousands of little specks sparkling in the moonlight, signalling the beginning of the Australia's last stand.

Phase one: The supporting vessels of the Australian Navy would fire missiles with warheads entirely filled with chaff countermeasure along the predetermined path of the bombers, releasing their payload after penetrating the clouds and below the aircraft; at the same time, a number of bombers were to fly under the main force and deploy chaff as the flights proceeded. While a simple tactic, coupled with the jamming from dedicated aircraft, this should effectively fill the radar screens of the Britannian ships with enough noise to make it impossible to track the exact location of the bombers until they were at a much closer range.

William stared out of the cockpit at the other bombers flanking his aircraft silhouetted against the moon and wondered how many of them would be shot down tonight, and how many airmen would never see their families again. Speaking of being shot down, William realized with a start that there still haven't been any sign of Britannian forces coming to engage them, no interceptors, no missiles, nothing. Odd. Very odd. Was this a trap? But there was no time to further consider this recent development, it was time for the next phase.

Phase two: Designated planes would gradually deploy flares as the fleet closed in on the Britannian command ship in an attempt to thwart any heat sensors and heat-seeking missiles sent their way.

Shortly, burning flares could be seen slowly descending, their trails swirling in the vortex created by the planes. It was apparent to anyone why the behemoth's flares were also known as angel flares; looking directly at them, the trail of the flares do appear to have the shape of an angel. An angel of death that is. Tonight their payload was especially destructive and deadly.

"Is it just me or does it seem that the Britannians are blind tonight? Not that I'm complaining but why haven't any aircraft come to intercept us yet?" William wondered aloud to his crew.

"Betcha it's a trap," replied the co-pilot, "Not much use in knowing that since we still have to fly into whatever shit those bastards set up for us, their idea of a 'warm welcome', and I mean that literally."

"We'll make it, there's only a few minutes left before we get in position to drop the bomb, they shouldn't be able to get all of us in time." Despite attempting to sound assuring, William could hear the nervousness and slight fear in the navigator's voice through the intercom, and he couldn't blame him; nobody likes going head on into a trap.

"He's right, look, those should be the missile barrage." William said as he pointed at the many anti-ship missiles that punched through the clouds and moments afterward dived down back through them at the enemy fleet.

Phase three: The vessels along the coast would fire an artillery and missile barrage at the Britannian fleet to overwhelm their air defenses, giving the squadron a chance to slip in and do their damage.

"It's time." Said the radar navigator, and everyone tensed. This was it. "1000 yards, 800, 700, 600, 500, 400, 300, 200, 100, bombs away!"

As taught before the mission, William immediately pushed the throttles to full military power and pulled up into a climb after the bomb was dropped. The cabin was silent as everyone sat in baited breath, the radar navigator watching the timer, as they awaited the explosion of their experimental bomb.

It seemed like an eternity after the bomb had been dropped did it finally happened.

They had been told that it would be bright, but they hadn't expected it to be _this_ bright. It was lucky that none of them were facing the blast, for they surely would've been immediately blinded. The light from the flash tore through the clouds and illuminated everything for miles ahead of the strike force, like a second sun shining in the night sky and breaking through the tomb of darkness. They couldn't even see the moon. But the light was gone after just a few seconds, and after that, the heat came. Despite the freezing cold air around them the crew could feel the scorching heat, like an electric heater was turned on near them, but instead of the heat coming from one side, it was all around them, enveloping them entirely. Before the heat had entirely subsided, the aircraft jerked violently, like being in heavy turbulence, and the wings flexed greatly, looking ready to snap. For a moment, William thought the old aircraft might not be able to take the stress.

And then, it all faded away. All that was left was a red glow that still illuminated the clouds, bathing the sky in an eerie red. William turned his head back and looked out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was emitting this red light. As he banked the aircraft to the left, he saw it. A humongous, mushroom-shaped cloud was forming from the explosion; it was a dirty looking red, patches of it dark and other places light, but entirely, it was brighter than a furnace; an enormous fireball occupied the base of the mushroom cloud and from the gap in the normal clouds that the shock waves had created, they could still see ripples of waves emitting from the center; there were a few expanding rings near the top of the mushroom cloud, and it looked as if there had been more but they had nearly disappeared.

After a few minutes of circling the area, with the mushroom cloud steadily rising, William decided to send down an escort to investigate, only to find that communications were down. Hesitating momentarily, William pushed down the control column and went to take a look himself. The bomber slowly eased itself into a dive and plowed through the clouds. What William saw took him by surprise.

The Britannian flagship, the HIMS _New York_, was nowhere to be seen, as were all of the vessels he knew where supposed to be surrounding the flagship; it was like they had disappeared into thin air. Further away, many carriers, destroyers, and cruisers alike were capsized, most turned on their sides, some even completely upside down. Those vessels that were left appeared to be turning back and steaming away, but without a fixed route; from the sky, it looked like they were going all over the place.

"Yes! We did it! Ha ha ha!" the radar navigator was the first to speak as he jumped up and slapped the navigator on the back. Following that, everyone in the cabin started cheering, shaking hands with each other and being overjoyed at not only being alive, but also defeating the most feared military in the world.

"This is great! Try to get through to headquarters, we need to fill them in on the situation, and tell them to get our medals ready while you're at it!" laughed William as he headed back up through the clouds to rejoin the rest of the strike force.

* * *

><p>Carine was sitting in the bridge of the Britannian Carrier-Battleship HIMS <em>New York<em>, the flagship of the invasion fleet and also the center of the command fleet, waiting for the attack promised by Wolfe earlier. Despite the Australian Navy massed at the coast hours ago, they showed no sign of attacking. It was already past midnight and she was getting tired and bored but she wasn't going to miss this. Tapping her fingers impatiently against the arms of the seat, she vowed to have them suffer a humiliating defeat for keeping her from her beauty sleep.

"Contact! Fifty-six contacts, altitude approximately thirty-five thousand feet, bearing zero-zero-six, radar return signatures indicate thirty probable heavy bombers and twenty-six fighter escorts." The words of the CIC officer made Carine smile sadistically. Finally they were coming, now all that's needed is to crush them.

"Scramble our fighters, all destroyers ready anti-air missiles for launch, let's show those fools how useless their attempt is."

"Captain, if we're going to show them how useless it is to attack us, why not do it in a more humiliating way? Do you think our fleet can destroy any weaponry their forces throw at us?" Carine questioned from her seat.

"Judging from their numbers, it shouldn't be a problem Your Highness, and the ones that get through won't be enough to deal any real damage to our ships if their previous attacks are any indication."

"Good. Let them come and attack us, and we'll swat their weapons out of the sky, then pursue and eliminate them. Send in the ground troops tomorrow morning after this. We'll wipe the floor with those idiots. Oh, and I want that Wolfe guy to be captured alive, I want to…meet…him." Carine covered a small yawn at how easy this would be and settled back into her seat to watch the show.

It seemed the Australians were well prepared for this, for when they launched their countermeasures, most of the sensors on the _New York_ failed to accurately track the bombers, and due to the low clouds they could not get a visual. But the most intriguing element of this attack was that all of the bombers flew past above the fleet and only dropped six bombs. When said bombs dropped through the clouds into visual range and the search lights aboard the ships locked onto them, they were revealed to be significantly larger and more rotund than conventional bombs. Interestingly, halfway down their descent, they deployed parachutes.

Carine watched them fall slowly with faint interest. She was confused as to what they were attempting to do, and the same confusion was apparent on the faces of everyone in the bridge. After a few moments, the captain snorted, "Is this their best shot? Shoot those things down, whatever they are."

Following his words, six missiles streaked up from the decks of escort destroyers, speeding towards the falling bombs but before they could reach their targets, Carine's vision was suddenly engulfed in darkness, all her senses blacked out, and there was the most curious feeling of floating upwards, or was it a loss of gravity…? And then, nothing.

* * *

><p>Everyone in the command center erupted into cheers and applauds as they watched a momentary intense flash of white light which was immediately replaced by a while of static, and afterwards, a mushroom-shaped cloud rising slowly into the sky in a bright red background, contrasting with the black starless skies around it, courtesy of live video footage taken from the command vessel near the coast. The electromagnetic pulse distributed by the blast had knocked out communications for a while before they managed to restore it, and the shock waves even jolted the camera which was tens of miles away.<p>

It was hard to believe that everything had gone so well; for some reason, the Britannians hadn't done anything to stop the strike force until the last second, and even the absence of four escorts didn't matter. Admiral Whitley laughed as he shook Brian's hand and said, "Bloody good job Wolfe! You really do have a bite as good as your bark!" Through all the cheering, the joyful voice of Colonel Hale could be heard through the radio, "Mission success, the Britannian command fleet is nowhere to be seen and the rest is disorientated and beginning to retreat. General Wolfe sir, the other squadrons are requesting permission to bomb the remaining ships in the area, should I give them clearance?"

"Negative," Brian replied. "You guys have done enough, and without a single casualty. Return to base, no need to take unnecessary risks, I want you all back here safe and sound to celebrate and receive your medals in person!"

Project AFCRO—Atomic Fusion Chain Reaction Ordnance—along with Operation Firelight, was a resounding success, and the greatest success since Australia claimed independence from the Holy Britannian Empire.

* * *

><p>[AN: To those who stuck through and read it, many thanks and I really appreciate you reading my (well, not entirely...) work, and I welcome constructive criticism. Thanks again to the readers~]


	3. Chapter 02: Flaring Embers

**Chapter 02: Flaring Embers**

"We are broadcasting live from the bridge of the HIMS _New York_ where preparations are under way for what will most likely be the Australian military's last stand. As you can see, there is a complete lack of tension among the crew; you could even say they are relaxed despite the call to battle stations not long ago."

Kir al Britannia quietly sipped at her tea while gazing at the scenes depicted on the screen before her. As she watched, the reporter stopped a passing seaman and asked him if they were worried at all. The sailor stared at him as if he had grown a second head for a moment before scoffing in reply.

It was an attitude that persisted throughout every branch of the Britannian armed forces, and one Kir had made sure to personally drill out of every soldier and officer in her Royal Guard. She understood that with technological supremacy came the tendency to become complacent, but it was no excuse to underestimate the adversary. Wars had been lost that way.

Watching Carine wrought destruction upon Australia was like watching a child trample and stomp her way through a miniature toy city. At least Cornelia possessed the professionalism, dignity, and honor of a soldier. Of the entire Imperial Family, Cornelia and Kir were the only ones to receive formal military training, both graduating summa cum laude from the military academy, and it differentiated them from the majority of their siblings greatly.

The decision to broadcast the deciding battle live throughout the Empire was the latest in Carine's series of sadistic schemes. In a way, Kir was thankful for the media coverage; Australia's decision to fight it out in such overwhelming odds had come as a surprise to the princess, and she insistently told herself she was intrigued by what unconventional tactics they had in store for Carine. However, if there was one person Kir could not deceive, it was herself, and she knew the reason for her interest was the worry gnawing at her from the recesses of her mind. She could not let Carine start a massacre in Sydney.

When the sight of the bizarre weapons falling slowly through the sky filled the screen, Kir quirked an eyebrow incredulously; was that all? Yet at the same time, something did not seem quite right. Call it intuition, but she had a bad feeling about the bombs. The feeling only intensified when the image phased to static and the broadcasting companies lost connection.

Then, the video feed returned.

Kir gasped in astonishment, her tea cup and saucer slipping from her loose fingers and spilling their contents onto the thick carpets as she stared, her eyes fixated upon the television screen. The scenes she saw would send waves of shock throughout the world.

Through the reinforced glass windows of a destroyer's bridge, a gigantic dirty red mushroom shaped cloud could be seen rising to the sky, painting the previously black night sky a brilliant red. Looking closely, Kir could see the comparatively tiny superstructures of numerous other vessels, some seemingly mutilated, silhouetted against the cloud. It was a scene straight out of Dante's _Inferno_, horrifying and awesome to behold.

While not as stunning as the phenomenon outside, the situation within the bridge was startling in of itself, a scene of utter chaos; the helmsman and the starboard lookout were clutching their eyes and rolling on the ground screaming in pain, alarms were wailing, and the shouting of orders and information that joined the cacophony of noise was barely discernible.

"—rface radar is down! The mast was damaged!"

"_Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is _Fearless_, we are si—_"

"We have people overboard! Stop the en—"

"—you mean, there's no response from the _New York_?"

And with that the video was cut, replaced by the network's standard "technical difficulties" imagery. Now that the shock had worn off, at the back of her mind Kir noted with slight amusement how quickly Britannian officials had taken action and stopped the broadcast.

Reaching for her computer, she quickly searched through the databases of Britannia's scientific institutes and laboratories in an attempt to discover what the Australians had built. None of her search queries returned any substantial or interconnected results, and the results were equally disappointing when she repeated the process with Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps's less-than-secret articles.

As she pondered the possible sources of the devastating weapon, she could not help the relief that washed over her with comforting warmth. She knew it was wrong; so many men and women had perished, but at the moment she was simply glad Sydney had not been turned into yet another meat grinder.

The voice of a news anchor drew her attention to the television once again. "This is just in. We have received a video from the Australian government that is to be shown to the Imperial Family and the Britannian public. We will now broadcast this video unedited."

The screen flickered and changed to show a young man dressed in the Australian Air Force uniform, his epaulettes denoting him as a Lieutenant General, standing on a podium with the flag of the Republic of Australia, the five brightest stars of the Crux constellation in white with a red seven pointed star in the center on a deep blue background, as the backdrop.

"To the government of the Holy Britannian Empire: due the unprovoked invasion of the Republic of Australia staged by your country, the Australian Armed Forces has retaliated against the threat to our state's sovereignty of this land. If the Holy Britannian Empire does not immediately withdraw its forces from the area and continue to engage in military action within the borders of the Republic, we—"

The young general was still speaking, but Kir could no longer comprehend what he was saying anymore. Her mind had finally wrapped itself around the fact that she had known since first laying eyes on the person, and all that was going through her mind now were two words again and again: It's _him_.

* * *

><p><strong><em>11<em>_th__ June, 2012 a.t.b_**

**_Kingsford Smith International Airport_**

**_Sydney, Australia_**

_A girl dressed in a white button-up shirt, dark blue jeans and a pair of white sneakers wandered around lost in the arrival terminal of Sydney airport. Distracted by the article she was reading on her phone, she had made a wrong turn and now had almost no clue as to how to get out of the airport. While possessing many talents, finding her way was most definitely not one of them. Sighing in frustration, she tucked a strand of her long chestnut colored hair behind her ear and walked briskly in a different direction._

_Rounding a corner while looking sideways at a direction post, she bumped into a semi-soft something with quite some force, lost her balance, and found herself sitting on the cold tiles while her hazel eyes blinked up at whatever she had hit._

"_Oh! I'm so sorry miss, please excuse me, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Are you hurt?" The voice of a young man around her age entered her ears. Approximately six feet tall, wearing a white, unbuttoned casual suit with a loose black dress shirt underneath, khaki pants and chocolate colored dress shoes, he had a hand reached towards her to help her up, his onyx black eyes showing genuine concern._

"_Um, no, I'm fine. It was my fault too, I was distracted…" she said and took his hand, letting him pull her up. Dusting her jeans, she looked up at him and flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment at what she was about to ask. "Er… I'm sort of lost… Could you tell me where the exit is?"_

_He smiled at her. "That's where I'm headed; I can walk you there if you want to."_

"_Thank you." She extended her hand to him. "My name is Kir Cullen. You?"_

_With a small grin, instead of shaking her hand, he held the offered hand softly and leaned down to give it a light brush with his lips. Straightening back up, smile still in place, he replied, "Brian Wolfe, at your service."_

* * *

><p>In the darkness of night, Brian lay silently on the bed situated in his apartment and quietly contemplated the enormity of what they had done. It had been a few days since they, or more specifically, he had gone and given the Holy Britannian Empire an ultimatum.<p>

He had gone on television, and in front of the whole world, in no uncertain terms demanded the most dominant superpower on the face of the Earth, an empire spanning more than one third of the globe, to leave them alone once and for all or be bombed back into the Stone Age.

Brian still found it somewhat difficult to fully comprehend this. How could he not? It was surreal; for the first time in modern history, it was the other way around, with Britannia on the receiving end of an ultimatum, rather than every other nation that was unfortunate enough to end up on the pointed end of Britannia's spear of invasion.

He idly wondered how the Imperial Family was taking this. Charles zi Britannia must be furious, for Britannia to suffer a defeated in a major conflict while under his rule must be a tarnish on his reputation. Perhaps heads would roll for it. He hoped it would be Britannian heads.

Frankly speaking, Brian wasn't quite sure if what they'd done would result in a better future for Australia. Evaluations were evenly split between optimistic and pessimistic. The previous days had consisted entirely of discussions regarding possible scenarios and outcomes; there were differing opinions within the armed services, the discussions with the other commanders had escalated to heated arguments on more than one occasion, and Brian was uncertain which side to take. Dragging himself off the bed, he headed for the bathroom; he needed a hot shower and some rest to clear his thoughts.

As he stood under the shower head, streams of hot water flowing over his form, and easing out the tension in his muscles, he heard the sharp ringing of his mobile phone. His habit of always keeping his phone within reach, including while showering, came from an unfortunate incident in which he found out that being in the shower and unable to hear the phone was not a valid excuse for failing to answer the call of a superior, especially when the reason for the call was a matter of importance. And at a time like this, he'd bet good money that most, if not all, calls would be important.

Upon stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, Brian raised an eyebrow at his phone in a questioning manner, for the ringtone indicated that it was a call on his private line. Recalling all the people he had given his private number to, an amount small enough to count on one hand, he wondered who could possibly be calling him at a time like this. He got his answer a moment later when a female voice floated through the speaker.

"Hello Brian. It's been a while."

Brian nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He was quite sure that he had momentarily stopped breathing. Perhaps his heart had even skipped a beat.

The single voice he had long given up hope of hearing again, that beautiful, melodic voice, velvet smooth and with a slight regal air to it. His brain had seemingly turned into mush, unable to comprehend anything else except for the voice that was still echoing within his mind. But at the same time, there was a slight nagging feeling, as if he had missed something.

After a few long seconds of silence, his brain finally managed to scoop itself back together enough to form a semi-coherent reply, he couldn't help the easily identifiable excitement and joy that crept into his voice.

"Kir! Wha… I… It's great to hear from you again! How are you? Where have you been all these years? And how come you're calling me…now…"

With the last sentence, the persistent nagging feeling caught up to him, and it dawned on him. The reason for her call was obvious, and his question died out in his mouth. She was Britannian, and four years ago she had gone back home to Britannia. The ultimatum he delivered was to be broadcasted throughout Britannia. No doubt she had watched him as he threatened to destroy her home if her country did not meet his demands.

Brian leaned back against the bathroom wall, his legs feeling slightly weak under him, as if they were turning into jelly. His throat suddenly felt as dry as a desert as he struggled to think of something, anything appropriate to say under these circumstances. Once again, there was silence, neither side saying anything, although Brian was quite certain his shallow breaths could be heard on the other side of the phone.

"You lied to me."

The voice was soft and quiet, yet those four words pierced through his chest just as clean and thorough as a sword would have. What could he say? What was there to explain? Yes, he had lied to her, he never did tell her the truth about what he did for a living, and yet, he had still promised her he would never lie to her. It was something that had tormented him since the day he made that promise, but at the time he was under orders. He had promised himself that someday he would come clean to her, but the opportunity never arose, and in part due to his fears.

That, however, was no excuse. The purpose for keeping certain information secret was to prevent it from being jeopardized by those outside the need-to-know, and the implication of his deceiving her was he didn't trust her to keep the information secret as well. And for her to learn of his deceit in such a fashion? It was unacceptable, and at those words, the guilt that had made itself known sporadically throughout the years suddenly reared in Brian's stomach like a monster, clawing at his insides, and returning the panging that had been absent for years back into his chest.

She was quiet for a moment, seeming to hesitate, before she finally spoke. "…Britannia is going to be out for your blood now. Take care."

And with that, the line went dead. The phone slipped out of Brian's slackened fingers and clattered loudly onto the tiled floor, but he barely noticed. His legs finally gave under him and he slid down the wall, sitting on the ground, his head hung low and staring at the tiles, yet not seeing them. He was vaguely aware that he was shivering, that there was still cold water dripping from his body, and the cold from the tiles were seeping into him. Whether the shivering was from the cold or the call, he wasn't sure.

Four years, for four years his only wish had been to hear from her again, if anything just to know that she was all right. Well, it was still a wish come true. Perhaps this was equivalent exchange, the price to pay for whatever deity that governed the world to grant him his request.

Tears started to well at the corners of his eyes, and in moments, his tears joined the streaks of cold water that were running down his face. For the years since her departure, he had hid his emotions behind a mask, never revealing anything to those around him. But today, her call, her voice, and her words had cracked and finally shattered his mask, and for the first time in years, Brian Wolfe closed his eyes and let the tear drops fall.

* * *

><p>Half a world away, Kir lay back against the pillows as she dropped her phone onto her bed stand. Despite all her pragmatism, she couldn't do it. It would probably have been beneficial to both sides had she followed her plan to extract information from him, but she had stopped at the verge of beginning to manipulate him. A small voice in her mind quietly but forcefully reminded her considering the many hours she spend deliberating this plan, she most certainly lacked the will to see it through.<p>

It was in the late hours of the previous night when Kir was summoned to the Imperial Palace on Saint Darwin Street by her father. The summons, or rather orders, was not entirely unexpected. However, that did nothing to quell the unpleasantness of it; if there was one thing the countless sons and daughters of Charles zi Britannia agreed on, it was that a meeting with their father was a highly undesirable endeavor. The Emperor was a distinctively unpredictable man, making it rather challenging to choose the correct side, for with Charles, there was no middle ground, only for and against.

She paused before the intricate set of double doors before her, the surrounding hallways devoid of all activity. Her Knight had been ordered to remain at the palace gates by one of Knights of the Round, much to his chagrin.

That detail unnerved her slightly.

Was it normal protocol? This was the first time she would meet the Emperor in private; all her previous encounters with the man had taken place in the royal court or his study with the Imperial Guards situated throughout the room and her Knight was allowed to stand guard at the doorway.

Or did he suspect she had the potential to attempt regicide? It was an open secret within the Imperial Family that her Royal Guards pledged their loyalty to her more so than to the Empire. Then again, the same could be said of both Cornelia and Schneizel.

Setting her apprehensions aside, Kir pushed open the doors and stepped into the gardens to find Charles with his back to her, standing before a magnificent fountain.

"Good evening Father, you wish to see me?" Judging by the choice of location and the time of night, she assumed the meeting would be an informal one.

The glare he sent her over his shoulder proved her wrong.

Kir immediately bowed and amended her words, "My apologies Your Majesty."

The Emperor turned to gaze into the fountain once more. "Beginning tomorrow you are to begin preparations for the invasion of Australia. The country must become an Area by the end of the month, and afterwards you will remain in the Area as Viceroy."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Kir had not anticipated the tight schedule. She would have to throw something together fast. Nevertheless, it was still possible, albeit requiring what would be a hastily planned operation with a higher chance of failure than the norm in the Britannian military. She also noticed his lack of interest towards Australia's new superweapon.

The Emperor went on, "In addition to your Royal Guards, you may relocate one reserve division for this task."

…

_What?_

Kir wondered if her ears were deceiving her, or if she could have misinterpreted the man's words. Did the man just order her to conquer a country measuring nearly three million square miles in size with only sixteen thousand troops? Her mind began reeling with the implications.

"Is there a problem?" The Emperor demanded. Apparently she had been silent for too long.

Kir spoke slowly, and kept her voice as neutral as she could; in her current predicament it would not do at all to question the Emperor. "Your Majesty, if I may ask, why only one division?"

"We cannot afford to be seen taking Australia seriously. Carine has already brought shame upon the Imperial Family, and someone is needed to restore our lost pride." How befitting of him to use the death of his daughter as another card in his hand. Kir doubted he would even be present to deliver a eulogy at her funeral.

"In addition," the man continued, "Cornelia has requested further support in the Middle East theater, Clovis is asking for more troops to suppress the uprisings in Area 11, and I am keeping units in preparation to invade the E.U. After Carine's failure, we do not have enough resources to go around."

At that the princess held back a snort. If there was one thing Britannia had in excess, it was military hardware; their armories were full of ordnance, some dating back decades, and factories churned out Knightmare Frames faster than they could field them. Lack of resources indeed.

"Very well, Your Majesty. You will have Australia by the end of the month"

The Emperor finally turned around. "I have full faith in your capabilities Kir." A smile graced his lips as he spoke, one that stopped far short of his eyes.

* * *

><p>Sir Jeffrey Windsor, Knight of Honor to the Third Princess of Britannia Kir al Britannia, rarely saw his princess in such a foul mood. Kir's normally well-schooled features were now set in a faintly noticeable scowl as the two of them settled into her limousine. He opened his mouth and was about to speak when she took out a small box shaped device from a compartment and switched it on.<p>

Jeffrey frowned and looked at the princess questioningly. The device was emitting an irritating buzzing noise, but that was not what bothered him; no, what bothered him was the fact she felt it necessary to use the device. The unremarkable thing was designed to interfere with recording devices without disturbing conversation, although it was arguable if the designers achieved the latter objective.

"Jeffrey, have security sweep the villa for any bugs, starting with the master bedroom and then my study. Tell them to check the car as well once we get back. Use the old encryption channel."

The Knight nodded and began manipulating the vehicle's onboard computer. He noticed the tension in Kir's actions when she poured herself some tea and then leaned back against the beige leather seats in an attempt to relax.

Finishing the message, Jeffrey focused his attention back on her. "What happened?" The concern was evident in his voice; not only was he her Knight, the two had been close friends for years.

She gave a faint sigh before speaking. "The Emperor has decided that I will be Australia's future viceroy. The catch is I have to take it by the end of the month with a reservist division."

His eyes went wide and his jaw slackened. Was this the reason for her abnormal actions? Did the Emperor want her dead, and did she suspect there was someone in the Imperial Family behind it? It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts and sort out which question to ask first. "Does he expect you to die in the process?" He managed to splutter out.

"I don't think so," she replied after several long seconds of contemplation. "It would look very bad for Britannia if two princesses died fighting such a small country. Sure, almost nobody outside my Royal Guard and the Family actually know who I am, but it's not easy to hide the presence of a princess, and they wouldn't need to know exactly who they killed beyond that. No, I think he expects me to win."

"Then why is he only giving you a reservist division?"

"According to him, we don't have enough resources for everything." She huffed in vexation. "Cornelia wants more units, so does Clovis, and he wants to invade the E.U. As if more units are going to help Clovis; I've never met anyone as incompetent as that Bartley. And God knows what Cornelia is doing in the Middle East; she should be finished by now!" At this point she was glowering out the window and it seemed to Jeffrey that she was talking to herself more than to him.

Kir shook her head and continued. "Anyway, the reservist division with the best equipment and training, it's one of those from the south right?"

Jeffrey nodded, "The 36th Mechanized Infantry Division, they have the most Knightmares. They're the only one to have Sutherlands right now too."

"You forgot to mention they're from the most 'socially developed' state. It's all part of his plan: he gives me a division of trigger-happy fanatics to take over and then manage a country. That's enough to keep me busy, without influence, and out of the way for the rest of my life. Or more likely the rest of his life." She gave a mirthless chuckle. "No one ever said the man is stupid."

"But why would he even want to do this in the first place?" That was something which left the Knight nonplussed; even though she disagreed with many of the Emperor's ideals and policies, his princess had never shown any inclination to take the throne for herself. Compared to her, Schneizel practically had a flashing neon billboard on his head proclaiming he wanted to usurp the Emperor.

"I don't know. Probably someone gave him the idea and showed him 'evidence'. I can't think of anyone though."

Upon reflection, Jeffrey could see that if taken out of context and edited together, some of what the princess had said could be convincing evidence of a desire to overthrow the Emperor. That explained why she was having the entire estate scanned for bugs.

The limousine pulled up to the front doors of the villa, and Kir switched off the interference device. Like always, she was out the door before Jeffrey could open it for her. "I need some time alone. Goodnight Jeffrey."

He was about to ask her what she had in mind to deal with the Australians, but he understood the hint. "Sleep well Kir."

As he watched her walk up the stairs to the master bedroom, he knew she would not be getting much sleep, if any at all, tonight. And neither would he.

It was four years ago when he had knelt before Kir al Britannia, presenting her with his sword at his knighting ceremony. At the time he had merely considered it as his duty to the Empire, that it was an honor to be trusted with the life of a member of the Imperial Family, but nothing more. The oath he swore was to a person he didn't know, and if he were honest to himself, a person that he did not particularly care about beyond his duties.

After the ceremony and in the privacy of her villa, the princess had made it abundantly clear that she did not trust him, and that she needed to truly know who Jeffrey Windsor is, before she made any decisions, insisting him to tell her everything there was to know about him.

And so he had. Who was he to deny the wishes of his princess? Kir had seemed pleased enough with the result, and let the matter rest. It was to his immense surprise that she later gradually began to reveal to him snippets of her past. Through her actions the Knight had already observed that his charge was different from the rest of royalty, but until then he had no idea just how different.

Over time Jeffrey found his loyalties shifting; he was no longer a soldier of Britannia, he was her soldier. No honor the Empire could bestow him would be able to match the honor of being allowed to witness the true Kir al Britannia, the actual person behind the façades, and to be entrusted with her secrets. The oath he had sworn had taken an entirely new level of meaning. He was her guardian, her confidant, and perhaps something more. He would defend and protect her with the very fabric of his being, and if he had to slay the Emperor to ensure her safety, then he would not hesitate to do so.

But at the moment, he had to find out who was threatening his princess. Jeffrey turned on his heel and strode out the door, intending to have a word with the villa's chief of security and the captain of her Royal Guards. He'd be damned if he didn't find out who the culprit was, and when he did… The Knight let the thought hang.

* * *

><p>[AN: No this is not a dead fic, I'm just terrible at keeping to schedules... I would like to apologize to anyone who was interested in this for the extremely long delay, and thank you for reading.]


	4. Chapter 03: Aggressive Negotiations

**Chapter 03: Aggressive Negotiations**

_Kir regarded the young man walking beside her with suspicion, although her outward appearance was one of amusement. The way he greeted her had instantly set off alarm bells in her mind, and she needed answers. While it was almost surely a coincidence, the possibility existed that this person knew who she was, or rather, what she was. But she did not graduate top of her class at the military academy by believing in coincidences._

_Giving herself a mental once over, she could not think of anything about her that would arouse suspicion. Albeit inheriting the general good looks associated with the royal bloodline, Kir hardly bothered herself with accentuating her features, preferring not to stand out too greatly. Her choice of attire was common enough, even if they were all designer clothing due to her siblings' insistence, however she doubted it was noticeable to anyone but keen fashion aficionados._

_There was, however, something that stood out about him. Upon closer examination, she would hazard a guess that he had East Asian blood in him; it would certainly explain the high concentration of melanin in both his eyes and hair. But interracial marriage was social suicide in Britannia, so individuals of mixed race were rare. It made him all the more interesting._

"_Do you always flirt with women you've only just met Mr. Wolfe?" Kir teased lightly._

"_Is that not the proper way to greet nobility?" The smirk playing on his lips almost seemed to be telling her to drop the act. _

_She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What makes you think I'm nobility?"_

"_The way you move, the way you raised your hand. Nowadays it seems that only royalty and nobility torture their children with etiquette training, and since I wasn't tackled to the ground by bodyguards, I figured you're the latter." He chuckled softly upon seeing her skeptical expression. "You did a good job hiding it. I only noticed because a friend of mine is a noble, and you reminded me of her; she tried to hide it too."_

_A cursory and subtle examination of his general attitude and overall posture told Kir that in all likelihood he was telling the truth. Given more time, she would have preferred to delve a little deeper, but it was unnecessary; she would watch her back, and if he wasn't onto her true identity, it would be extremely unlikely for them to ever meet again._

"_You must be pretty sharp to notice, but you're only half right; I did have etiquette training, but I'm not a noble. My parents just thought it was 'proper behavior for a lady'." She offered him a triumphant smile of her own._

"_My apologies then." Wolfe said with a nod as they stepped out into the bright Australian sun. "Well, here we are. You can take a taxi over there, or I could give you a ride. Since you managed to get lost back in there, who knows what'll happen in the city." Despite his joking tone, she thought she detected a trace of genuine concern in his voice._

"_I'll be fine, I only get lost in large buildings." She assured him. Judging by his expression, it seemed he didn't know whether to take her seriously or not. "Thanks for your help Mr. Wolfe." She said before turning to leave._

"_Call me Brian. You know, if we ever see each other again."_

_Pausing momentarily, she glanced back at him over her shoulder. "All right then Brian, if we meet again, you can call me Kir."_

_As she headed for the taxi stand, Kir hoped that this somewhat ominous start did not foreshadow a change in her journey's path, all the while words from her first lesson at the Academy floated into her mind: nothing ever goes according to plan._

* * *

><p>"Christ, Wolfe, you look like Hell!"<p>

And that's one Hell of a morning greeting, thought Brian. But he had grown used to his boss's oddities, and it was a few of those oddities that landed him his current job in the first place, although at the moment he wasn't too sure he wanted it.

"Good morning to you too, General. And with how quickly things are happening, I suppose we all do." Brian said with a weak smile. He was well aware of the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin, but there was nothing he could do about it. The truth was he barely got any sleep in the days following _her_ phone call.

The general in question was General Samuel Harrison, Commander of the Australian Air Force, and Brian's benefactor in the most recent years of his career. A calm and collected commander, he had an exuberant personality only shown to friends and close colleagues. As someone who in his younger years was an excellent flyer, he commanded respect from those he led, assisted by his height and physique despite his age.

"Be that as it may, you're not going to be meeting the Britannians looking like that, son. I'll get Nancy to straighten you up before we get going."

Brian blinked in bewilderment, his mind not even registering the last sentence. "Sir, what do you mean, 'meeting the Britannians'?"

"I mean just that. Look sharp now, Wolfe, I need you at your best today. Now sit down, we haven't got all day." Harrison briskly waved his secretary over as he spoke.

Before he knew it the General had already sat him in a chair and Nancy was fussing over him with her bag of makeup at hand. Why did nearly all females seem to have a perpetual supply of cosmetics at any given time? And for that matter, why did the majority of the female populace feel the need to conceal perceived imperfections, real or imagined, with the substance? _She_ rarely, if ever—

No. With a mental shake of the head, Brian steered his thoughts away from those dangerous waters. It was almost as if he had reverted to a previous version of himself, when subtle hints and tiny reminders could bring about waves of nostalgia and longing.

"As you know, we don't have official diplomatic relations with the Britannians. They sent word through the Europeans telling us they want to negotiate." Harrison explained. "Either they're running scared or planning something. Regardless, they're on their way and we're late for the preliminary meeting with the Prime Minister."

"But what do you need me for, sir?"

"Project AFCRO is our trump card and we need the best advice on what to do with it. You know about it better than anyone else. I can't ask any of those scientists to do it; one, we need evaluations that consider the military and political applications, and two, who knows how that bunch will react if everyone at the table starts staring at them? I need someone I can rely on."

Brian's eyebrows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it was just his lack of sleep coupled with paranoia, but he had the slightest feeling that there was something off about the way the General spoke and how he didn't quite look at him. He quickly shook off the feeling; he had more urgent matters at hand.

"Do we know who the representatives are?" A lot could be gleaned from the background of the adversary. After all, knowing was half the battle.

Finishing his makeup, Nancy left and Harrison wordlessly handed him a plain folder in response. Taking it into his hands, Brian felt it was awfully thin and light. Flipping it open, he saw why; there was only one sheet of paper. He turned it over. It was one-sided. He glanced up from the folder and at his superior, half expecting the man to laugh and say "April Fools'!" All he got in return was a grim frown.

Stifling a sigh, Brian lowered his gaze to the document and began reading. One entry caught his eye. "'Sir Jeffrey Windsor, Knight of Honor'. They're sending a Knight? What about his princess?"

"Not a clue. Intelligence didn't even manage to dig up the knighting ceremony, not that they've ever given us anything useful." A common complaint among militaries around the world, it was especially true for Australia considering their lack of overseas assets.

Despite the length of the document, its content actually offered a marginal amount of insight into Britannia's actions: this proposal of negotiating a truce or treaty was far from sincere. The delegation would be led by a Knight of Honor and did not include any career diplomats, only two economists and attorneys. Indeed, it seemed more like a meeting to iron out the details for a transition of power.

And it could turn out to be just that. In fact, Brian knew it was the opinion of many in the government that a peaceful transition to Britannian rule where Australians would be treated equally alongside Britannians would be more beneficial than threatening total annihilation. While these people were by no means the majority, there were enough of them to make a difference, and some held high positions in government. He wondered how many of them would be present at the negotiations later.

As soon as he set down the briefing file, Harrison ushered him to his feet and out the door, and they headed down the long winding hallways of the Foreign Ministry. Mentally reviewing all the details of Project AFCRO, Brian barely noticed the route they were taking, and it was not until they stood before the doors of the conference room did he realize with a start where they exactly were.

This part of the building was rarely, if ever used for its intended purpose; in this very room one hundred and ninety one years ago, Britannia officially recognized Australia's independence. Holding negotiations here would send a clear message.

Smoothing down his uniform, he stepped into the room behind his superior as a soldier opened a door from the inside. Both stood at attention and saluted Prime Minister Graham who greeted them with a tired smile before taking their respective seats at the long mahogany conference table. Out of the corner of his eye, Brian thought he saw Graham and Harrison exchange a glance but disregarded it; it most likely didn't concern him.

Turning his attention to the others gathered at the table, he noted the Foreign Minister, the Finance Minister, and Fleet Admiral Davis Whitley sitting to the left of Graham, while he along with Harrison and Commander of the Army, General James Granger were located on his right. All of them were people the Prime Minister was familiar with, one could even go so far as to say trusted, if that were not an imaginary concept in politics. Judging by the presence of the three most senior commanders of the Australian Armed Forces, it was safe to assume that Graham did not anticipate a peaceful solution on the horizon.

"As I was saying," the Foreign Minister began, "both the Chinese Federation and the Euro Universe have offered us support in exchange for our technology, and the Middle Eastern Federation has promised us top priority and low price petroleum exports in the future if we are to assist them in repelling the Britannian invasion. However, after consultations with my staff, it is my opinion that we should reject these proposals.

"Even though the Chinese and the Europeans will provide us with support before we give them the technology, there is no assurance that they will continue to do so after the initial exchange. I am extremely doubtful of their willingness to apply political pressure on Britannia, and even if they did, Britannia would most likely ignore them, just like when they invaded Japan seven years ago. They certainly won't be mobilizing their militaries to help us either."

"But surely they realize the danger of Britannia getting their hands on AFCRO," Argued Finance, "If they let Britannia take over they get a warmongering empire with the world's most powerful weapon!"

It was then that Brian realized these people around him really didn't have a clue about the details of their nuclear technology. All the theories existed, and have existed for decades, but his scientists and engineers were the first ones to put them into practice. Britannia had no shortage of brilliant minds, it would only be a matter of time until one of them connected all the right dots, and then before you knew it, Britannia would have its own weapon of mass destruction. Comfortingly however, that time would most likely be measured in years, years his own team could use to improve existing technology and develop countermeasures.

An angry voice interjected before Foreign could reply. "God dammit, you two talk as if we've lost already!" Granger exclaimed. "We can be just fine on our own; with AFCRO we can defend ourselves and hit them where it hurts."

"And deliver it how?" Harrison asked. "Davis's submarines can't launch missiles, and my bombers won't get far over Britannian airspace."

"They never will if you don't try." The Army General shot back.

"I will not sacrifice the lives of my men on a mission destined to fail before it even begins." Harrison replied icily, his eyes narrowing into a glare.

The animosity between the two Generals was nothing new. Although this was the first time he saw their interactions, Brian had heard rumors about just how much they despised each other. He had regarded the rumors with suspicion, but now he decided there might be a bit of truth to them.

"No one is asking you to, Sam." The Prime Minister, who until now had sat back and let the discussion run its course, said firmly. "And we're discussing possible courses of action, James, not admitting defeat. Please continue."

Nodding, the Foreign Minister continued, "Thank you Prime Minister. As the sole country to possess such strategic weapons, we can use them to gain considerable leverage in negotiations. If we were to give other nations access to this technology, we would dilute our influence. We would also be inviting a full on assault by a Britannia desperate to acquire these weapons when they learn another superpower already has them.

"Frankly speaking, we are between a rock and a hard place. At the cost of further provoking Britannia and dampening our own influence, we can get at best marginal support from other countries. We might be able to get a better deal if we had the time but right now we don't. Keeping the technology for ourselves will only serve to delay another Britannian invasion, because I don't see them tolerating our possession of such a weapon." The minister paused momentarily, his gaze averting those of everyone else at the table. Swallowing, he continued heavily, "Therefore, with the best interests of our people in mind, I suggest using AFCRO to negotiate equal and acceptable terms of integration into the Holy Britannian Empire."

The silence that ensued was so complete that the sound of a pin dropping onto the lush carpets would be clearly audible. This was the first time someone in Graham's own party openly proclaimed their support for such a course of action, and it did not bode well for the solidarity between party members. Whether the man's motivation for doing so was his fear of another onslaught or the interests of the Australian populace was anybody's guess.

Graham scrutinized his colleague darkly, causing the minister to wither. "Your opinion has been noted. However, ceding our independence is not an option." He said brusquely. "We face a daunting task, but the same could have been said for the founders of our country. They pushed on, and so will we.

"Now gentlemen, I want to hear your opinions on how we secure the future of Australia."

Finance was first to speak. "Economically speaking, we will need foreign support if we want to carry on. The war has taken its toll on our economy, and further conflict will eventually cripple it. The data suggests it won't take long either; tourism is gone, along with education, and things aren't looking good for exports. Britannia can block our long distance shipments, and even though the Europeans won't be happy about that, they can always buy from China, and Britannia might even lower export prices for them just so they won't intervene. Unless Britannia is completely removed from the picture, we're going to need financial aid, regardless of what else we plan to do."

"I agree that we need foreign support as well." Harrison concurred. "In its current state, the military is in no shape to fight off another invasion. Perhaps the Army is," He added when it seemed Granger was about to object, "But the Air Force certainly isn't, and I doubt the Navy is either." He looked to Whitley for confirmation and the Admiral shook his head in reply.

The Prime Minister took in the words silently, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table and his fingers interlocked, staring into the spalted wood. It was several long moments before he spoke. "What about a preemptive strike on Pendragon? You mentioned something called ballistic missiles in one of your briefings that you said could work, Sam?"

Brian looked at Harrison in surprise, but the General was not facing him. Brian's team had written the report on ballistic missiles before the war, and he had clearly marked it as 'For internal use only' when he recently submitted it to Harrison. He had not expected the man to use a purely academic internal document in a briefing.

"It's possible," Harrison allowed, "But the whether or not it will be effective is still under discussion. And the technology was pioneered by the Chinese, so we would still need their assistance."

It was at this point that Brian felt the need to intervene. Did the Graham really see eliminating Britannia's leadership as a viable strategy? Yes, they now possessed the power to instantly decimate entire cities, but assuming they could do so, what would be the objective?

During the technology's initial phase of development, Brian had envisioned the weapon's true potential to be its psychological impact, rather than its tremendous capacity for destruction. One demonstration of its abilities later and no more would need to be fired; a combination of fear and cunning diplomacy would prevent another attack, and after the other side acquired such weapons themselves, the knowledge of mutual annihilation would maintain a tense and wary peace.

At least, that was the theory. And judging by the words of the Foreign Minister, it was indeed nothing more; Australia had neither the time nor room for diplomatic maneuvers, and Britannia would rather sacrifice thousands of soldiers than exist in fear of a weaker nation.

It came as a surprise to Brian, but he found himself beginning to agree with the Foreign Minister's proposal.

In the current situation, as preposterous as it sounded, it struck him as the most reasonable course of action. He had always believed the military existed to serve the people; their duty was to protect. Would they be fulfilling that duty by unleashing the ultimate weapon of war and allowing an apocalypse to descend upon this land? Did upholding national honor and dignity take priority over the countless lives of those they had sworn to defend?

No. No, it didn't.

They would be hated, he knew. They would be ridiculed for not standing up to face the enemy. But in return, millions would be spared. Not just spared from death; they'd be spared from the slow and painful torment of war, spared from having to see every glimmer of hope snuffed out by an unstoppable force, until nothing remained.

Of course, Brian couldn't say that. He would be instantly relieved of his position, and there would be nothing he could do to prevent an escalation to nuclear war. The indiscriminant use of such a weapon was horrifying to imagine.

"With all due respect sir," He said as all eyes on the table turned to him, "I disagree with General Harrison's assessment."

He pressed on before anyone could interrupt, "Sir, we lack the number of warheads to strike at the necessary targets. Our current supply of fissionable material is only enough for a few more weapons. We are working to increasing production, but it is a lengthy process."

"How many can we make?" The Prime Minister asked.

"With our current storage, I estimate four or five with similar yield as the one we used before." That was the most conservative projection, he had no intention of admitting the actual number would most likely be closer to ten thanks to data gleaned from using one to repel the Britannian invasion.

"Which will be enough," Said Harrison, "We need only strike Pendragon; military and industrial targets can wait."

"Then it is decided," Graham spoke with finality just as Brian was about to argue, "If this conference does not yield any significant results, we will launch a preemptive strike on the Britannian capital. Any objections?"

This time Brian made no objections, and neither did anyone else; he knew a hint when he saw one.

As the Prime Minister proceeded to confer with Harrison, Whitley, and the Foreign Minister on the details of acquiring support from the Chinese Federation and the plans for an attack, Brian sat in silence, kept out of the conversation. While he had not explicitly established a position on their course of action, his words had implied a certain amount of reluctance.

A few hours later, a knock on the door silenced all discussion.

A guard entered and saluted. "Sir, the Britannian delegation has arrived."

* * *

><p>In light of the current situation, the Prime Minister had decided to forgo the niceties of diplomatic exchange; nobody rose to greet the Britannian negotiators when they took their places at the table. For several seconds, neither group spoke a word, each measuring the other, looking for any potential weaknesses to take advantage of.<p>

The Knight, Jeffrey Windsor, was easily recognizable; his flamboyant garb stood out from the simple black suits worn by the others. He was also the one that unnerved Brian the most. Perhaps because of how his gaze lingered on him, Brian's instincts told him to be wary.

"Let us begin then." Prime Minister Graham said briskly after a few moments. "As the victim of an illegitimate invasion, we demand the Holy Britannian Empire cease any and all hostile action to the Republic of Australia. We will establish a special zone extending two hundred nautical miles from our territorial waters that any and all vessels and aircraft of Britannian registry or bearing the Britannian flag must refrain from entering to prevent future incursions, and Australian forces shall reserve the right to fire upon any intruders. We also demand Britannia compensate our nation for all damages to our people incurred by your country's act of aggression.

"Failure to meet these demands will result in a prolonged conflict that will only bring harm to both of our countries. It is in the best interest of both our peoples to seek a peaceful resolution to this conflict." The threat in Graham's words was clear enough.

The demands were over-the-top. It was a commonly used technique in negotiations: state intentionally excessive demands that are unlikely to be fulfilled, then gradually grant the opposition concessions in return for compromises on their part. It gave them room to maneuver, especially when the opposite side did not know what their baseline was. Done correctly, yielding only slightly could create the impression of giving great concession.

The response from the Britannian side was of course just as expected, if not delivered with even more bluntness.

"No." Windsor replied simply.

A few seconds of silence ensued, before the Prime Minister spoke in what was clearly forced politeness, "I beg your pardon?"

"No, we reject your proposal." He elaborated. Brian could detect a certain casualness in his voice. Was that what it was like to 'negotiate' from a position of overwhelming strength, nonchalant and relaxed?

"Australia will hand over the technology behind the new weapon as well as any stocks of said weapon, and stand down all military forces in exchange for occupation by Britannian forces, resulting in annexation at a later time." He paused before adding, "Peacefully, of course."

"Under no circumstances will—" Graham began coldly, but the Knight cut him off, leaning forward and turning to face Brian.

"I must admit, General Wolfe, I am surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be hiding somewhere in a bunker after hearing our condition for this little talk to take place." He mocked, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

Brian glared steadily into Windsor's eyes. The look he got back was icy, accentuated by his blue irises, and betrayed no hint of emotion. Brian could only hope the same could be said of himself, because his mind was racing. There was something he had not been told, something vital. All of a sudden, the oddities General Harrison had been showing today came back to him.

"I didn't see anything to be afraid of." He said by way of reply. He had to play along, even if he had no idea what the game was.

What Windsor said next had him pause. "Tell me, General, what does it feel like knowing you'll soon be dead and gone?"

The rest of the room froze. Even Graham did not take the opportunity to continue. Meanwhile, Brian's training stopped him from panicking, but just about. He could have simply been referring to Britannia's commitment to conquering Australia, but considering what he said earlier, a much more sinister possibility came to mind.

"Well, I suppose you'll find out for yourself soon enough, Mr. Windsor." He said coolly.

This time Windsor really did smile, clearly amused. But he was done pursuing this topic and turned his attention back to the Prime Minister, continuing the diplomatic discussions.

The ensuing hours were spent engaging in useless 'diplomacy', with both sides repeatedly stating their demands in varying vernacular. Throughout it all, Brian did his best to push his concerns to the back of his mind with minimal success. As the meeting drew to a close and the Britannian delegation prepared to leave, Brian caught Windor's eye once again. Giving him a pointed look, the Knight mock saluted him before stepping out of the room.

* * *

><p>"General! General Harrison!" Brian called after his superior. They had just left the conference room and in the time it took Brian to get a cup of water, Harrison had promptly strode away.<p>

Jogging a few steps to catch up, Brian stood in front of him to cut him off. Harrison stopped and made no attempt to continue.

"Sir, what did he mean, the condition for the talk to take place?" Brian asked slowly. He was certain that the senior commander was hiding something from him, and knew it was not simply an attempt by the enemy to disturb him.

Harrison stared forward resolutely, refusing to meet his eyes. Several seconds later he replied in clipped tones, "The Britannians wanted you. In return, they'd negotiate."

He was being sold out, Brian realized. They were willing to hand him over, wrapped neatly in a bow, to the enemy. But that was not what bothered him most.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly.

"There are…some who fear that had you been informed, you would have tried to escape or gone rogue. With you still in command of AFCRO, it was a risk that could not be ignored."

"But…With your influence, surely—" He stopped and stared at Harrison with accusing eyes. "You didn't try to convince them otherwise, did you?" Brian's voice shook slightly. He had always held the General in highest respect and had never had any reason to doubt him before, but right now…

Harrison did not reply. Jaw clenched, he stepped around Brian and stalked down the corridor. Brian stood rooted in place. He looked over his shoulder at the retreating form of his superior, his mentor, leaving.

Once again, for the second time in his life, Brian felt as though he was completely and truly alone. In this vast and colorful universe, he was but a drifting raft in an immense and dangerous ocean. And no matter how hard he looked, there was no help in sight.

* * *

><p>[AN: Many thanks to Kiyuzanova for the advice given on this chapter, it has been incredibly useful. Also thank you to those who reviewed the past chapters, any criticism would be very helpful, and I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.]


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